Cry Little Sister
by transmuting
Summary: A story made up of a series of one shots loosely strung together. Peter and Susan have cared for each other more deeply than any two siblings likely should. Rated M for a reason. Warnings for incest.
1. Fairy Tales

"Tell me a fairy tale, Peter."

The words had always seemed innocent enough. Peter had constantly told Susan stories about princes and princesses and dashing knights fighting off dragons. While she had a habit of ruining the stories with her logic, he still enjoyed telling them, if only because Edmund would always chime in to tell her to shut her trap and stop messing it all up. He was always so temperamental about it, though he never really understood why. Susan's questions were all well thought out for a young girl and Peter would sometimes find himself impressed – though, sometimes, a tad annoyed. Edmund, he assumed, became annoyed easier, as he was younger, and likely didn't want to think with logic just yet anyway.

However, Susan and Peter would not children anymore. They were adults. Two adults sharing the same tiny bed in the same cramped flat in the same disgusting city – and she was still looking at him and waiting. He was wondering for a moment if she was joking. Reminiscing. He wouldn't hold it past her to try and capture the past when they were lying in the ruins of their lives. They had grown up once in a fairy tale – it was now their only means of escape.

Neither could say they were very happy. Since returning to England, Susan had decided to block it all from her memory. Peter assumed it was some type of defense mechanism – a way to not deal with the outside world being so horrid and her own misery at being wrenched away from the world she had ruled and cared for for so many years. She had convinced herself they were all childhood games and chosen to take the more suited path for a woman her age – she had buried herself in make-up, nylons, and most importantly, boys. As far as she was concerned, it had never happened.

Peter had chosen a much more conventional approach. He sulked in the memories that plagued him and forced himself to deal with the reality that he would never have them back. He would never be High King Peter again. He would never rule the world. He would never be anything more than another man, trudging through life, trying to make ends meet and never really being able to focus on himself or his happiness. He would marry some woman he didn't really love but who distracted him from his every day miseries and he would have two kids – a boy and a girl, a dog, and a three bedroom townhouse in the city. He would live his life the way his parents had. Only with less children.

Having those realistic thoughts in his head made it hard to want to tell her a fairy tale. He rubbed his chin in thought, one arm being placed behind his head to be used as an extra pillow. His was worn and beaten at this point and he wasn't particularly comfortable without something more firm beneath his head. He licked his lips softly, eyes focused on the ceiling. He could feel Susan's eyes on him, waiting and expecting him to fulfill her request as he always had.

"Susan. . ." He began, turning to look at her and fully ready to tell her that he just didn't have it in him. The look in those crystal blue eyes, however, was so heartbreaking – so lonely, sad, and pathetic that he couldn't form the words. She was broken inside and for once she was letting him have a glimpse at just how many pieces were scattered inside of her. He swallowed roughly, searching her for some sort of strength, trying to find some sign that he could let her down easy. She gave him none. Sighing, he looked away from her, staring up at the ceiling again.

"Once upon a time. . ."

If she wanted to live in fairy tales, who was he to stop her?


	2. Addicted

"You're going to get addicted."

The words had come from Susan with that same tone she _always_ used. The I-Know-Everything-And-So-You-Should-Listen-To-Me tone that made Peter want to tell her to sod off and go lecture someone else. The cigarette was barely dangling from his lips, the door having just started to shut behind him when she came out after him. He was home for his last summer, just finished with school, and ready to go out into the real world. These next few months were just about gathering his belongings, finding a job, and getting a flat. Susan would be done next year and she would go through the same thing – but for now, he was the adult of their tight knit siblings. The official one. There wasn't any wardrobe to mess it all up here.

"I'll be fine." He lifted the match, ready to strike it, but she reached forward and snatched the cigarette from his mouth before he could even come close. He was paused, hands still holding the match and book, lips slightly parted where the stick had once been, and he blinked a few times in confusion. Sighing, he closed his eyes, extending his hand out to her. "Give it back, Susan."

"You'll get addicted and there's no way these are good for you," He opened his mouth to debate, but she pointed her finger at him to silence him, her tone still clearly lecturing. "I don't care what the scientists and doctors say. Smoke in your lungs kills you in a fire, what's the difference now?"

He rubbed his forehead in frustration. There was no arguing with her when she got like this. It was like talking to a wall, sometimes. Biting his lip, he turned to her, giving her a defeated look and shrugging. "You're right. I'll get addicted. It will probably kill me." Taking a few steps forward, he all but cornered her against the house, leaning in and placing one hand on the wall. He always found intimidating her was easier when he was closer and he smirked at the suddenly uneasy look on her face. "But – as I _am_ technically in my forties at the least, don't you think it's about time you start letting me make my _own_ mistakes, _sister?_" He held out his hand again, wanting her to give the cigarette to him so he didn't have to snatch it from her hands.

She seemed to be thinking. Her eyes searched his, their faces almost inches apart, and he felt the breath catch in his throat when her tongue darted out to lick her lips. Small things like this had tortured him ever since they had first grown up in Narnia. The way her mouth glistened when she wore lipstick, or how she always smelled faintly like daffodils. The way her hair fell just right over her shoulders and her eyes were the perfect shade of blue. He knew these thoughts never did him any good – he had made things awkward once back there, as a King, when he had attempted to kiss her after one too many glasses of wine. She had run away from him, gone to flirt with some other King, and in the end it had just gotten herself in trouble. Kidnapped by some lunatic with only Edmund there to save her while he was off fighting giants or whatever else. She always seemed to get herself in trouble when he wasn't around.

She sighed, finally handing the cigarette back to him, and pushed herself up so she was just inches from his face. "Fine. But only because you look so good when you're smoking. It's fun to watch the neighborhood girls squirm."

Before he could even utter a response, she was gone, back inside to discuss random, unimportant topics with their mother and braid Lucy's hair. He stared after her for a moment, biting on his lip, before he curled his fingers around the cigarette and placed it back in his mouth.

He made a mental note to smoke around Susan more often.


	3. Summer Heat

If there was ever a month that Peter hated, it was August. It was the month that the entire summer waited for, saving all its heat and humidity for one last shout out before fall set in. He was sure that if you looked hard enough, you would be able to see the heat rising in the air, and there was nothing worse than that in his mind – or at least, not much worse. For some reason, he was convinced it was worse in London then it was in the country. He was starting to wonder why it is he had started to reject invitations to go and see the Professor in his cottage and instead stay in the small flat he had been sharing with his sister Susan now for little over a month. It was hotter here. There was nothing to do. And he was pretty sure he was dying.

Susan didn't seem to be much better off. He watched as she fanned herself by the window, watching the people of London walk by. He rolled up his sleeves, unbuttoning the top few button of his shirt as he leaned back in his chair. Her dress was undone some, the tops of her breasts exposed and he watched as a small droplet of sweat rolled down her neck and over them, disappearing in the crevice shortly after. He licked his lips, tearing his gaze away, and starting to fish into his pockets for a cigarette.

He had started smoking shortly after they'd come back from Narnia the last time. All the boys in his dorm had started – it had become the cool thing and who was he to pass that up? He had become addicted quickly, finding it stress relieving. It hadn't helped that Susan had noted how good he looked when he smoked. He bit his lip, pushing the thought from his mind as he grasped the pack in his hands. He pulled a single fag from inside, placing it between his lips as he began the hunt for matches. Finding one quicker than he had the cigarettes, he struck it, lighting the tip and puffing the smoke gently before he shook it out. Tossing it into the tray, he took a deep breath, feeling the smoke fill his lungs, and letting it out in a long, calculated sigh.

He watched as Susan leaned back in the chair by the window. When she propped her feet up on the table, he watched as her skirt slid some up her thigh. While he knew she normally would have fixed it, he also knew the heat was causing her to not want to. The cool air exposed to flesh had to be relieving for her. He licked his lips in thought. He imagined them lying in bed, her dress to the side, an ice cube in his hands as he trailed it over her skin. He imagined blowing cold air onto the wet trails it would leave. He imagined far too many things.

He took another sharp inhale from the cigarette, trying to sidetrack himself from those thoughts quickly. He had been distracting himself from these feelings for a few years now. He didn't know why he couldn't do it a little longer. Licking his lips, he tried to forget about the arousal growing in him, the tightness in his pants – and finally, and most of all, he tried to forget about the fucking heat.

If there was ever a month Peter hated. . . It was August.


	4. Memories

He pushed the door open quickly, his hands roaming over her blouse, still wet from the rain and sticking to her skin. He could taste the eggnog on her lips, the faint smell of too much alcohol radiating from both of them and filling the rather small apartment. He kicked the door closed, quickly backing them up as he lifted her onto the table, never taking his lips off of hers as he did so.

They tried desperately to undo each others buttons, Susan managing to pop a few off of Peter's shirt. They scattered onto the floor, rolling under cabinets and beneath the stove where they likely would never be retrieved from. Peter hoped he could find the money to buy a new shirt, but the thought was pushed quickly from his mind as she felt her nails scratch over his bare skin.

He'd been waiting for this for far too long.

* * *

><p><em>Susan shifted her hips so the skirt of her dress swung back and forth. Her expression seemed indecisive and it was clear she needed help making a decision as she turned back towards Peter, her hands on her hips. "What do you think?"<em>

"_It looks fine."_

"_You haven't even looked up from your book, Peter!" She huffed, going over to him and snatching it out of his hands. "I want to look good for this birthday party. It's the first one I've been invited to all year. Now tell me. Does it make me look nice?"_

_He sighed as he looked her over. She was growing into a rather lovely young woman, he supposed. Having just started puberty, her body was beginning to fill out, and the dress emphasized the newly found curves well. The blue matched her eyes and the sparkle in them made her look stunning. Her hair framed her face in light waves, pinned back so it didn't block her vision. She was beautiful, in every meaning of the word._

_He yanked his book back and opened to where he'd left off. "You don't eve like her."_

"_Peter__-_please_!__"_

_He sighed, glancing back to her again, and finally nodding. "You look great."_

_Grinning, she bent down to kiss his cheek, before running out the door to see what mother thought._

* * *

><p>"Please, Peter." It came out in a whimpered moan, her hands dragging down to his belt and fumbling to undo the clasp. She whipped it from the holds, tossing it to the side, not caring that something shattered loudly as it fell to the floor. She worked on the button of his pants, cursing lightly under her breath as it seemed to refuse to come undone. "Please."<p>

His hands had pushed her skirts up, quickly reaching for her undergarments and attempting to yank them off. He growled in frustration, finally tugging hard enough to rip the fabric. His fingers searched upwards, brushing against her entrance and they both gasped at the touch. Peter could feel himself aching as he pushed his fingers inside, feeling her warmth wrap around them. She moaned against his ear, each breath coming out as more of a shaky sigh. Her hands seemed to forget about his pants, arms wrapping around him, and nails digging into the skin of his back.

"You feel... God, you feel great."

* * *

><p>"<em>What's it like to kiss someone?"<em>

_Peter looked up from his breakfast, staring at his sister as though she'd gone mad. "What?"_

"_Well, I've wondered for a while," she said coyly, moving her seat so it was closer to his. She placed her hand on his upper arm, smiling somewhat and leaning her head against his shoulder._

_Peter scoffed gently, shoveling another bite of food into his mouth. "You kissed people when we grew up in Narnia," he grumbled through his oatmeal, swallowing and wiping his lip with the back of his hand. "You know plenty what it's like to kiss and I can't believe you think I wouldn't know that."_

"_I__ mean_ really_ kiss__ someone.__ Someone __you__ love. __And __care __about.__"_

_Peter paused momentarily, a spoon full of oatmeal half way towards being eaten. Finally he shrugged, taking another bite, and swallowing it quickly. "How should I know? I've never kissed someone I love."_

"_Have you ever been in love at all?"_

_He looked over to her, both sets of blue eyes fixed on one another. Hers were wide and seemingly innocent, though their was a spark of some kind of intent he couldn't quite place in her own. She smiled lightly, batting her lashes at him, the way she often did when she thought she was being clever._

"_Dunno. Eat your cereal."_

* * *

><p>He finally managed to pop the button open with his free hand, yanking down the zipper. She didn't give him a chance to free himself, instead reaching in on her own accord and wrapping her hands almost roughly around his arousal. He groaned loudly as she pulled him free of his clothes, the cold air of the apartment sending a shiver up his back as it hit such sensitive skin. Pulling his fingers out from inside her, he slid his hand down between his legs, stroking himself with the wetness that covered them.<p>

"Oh, God, Su..." He was quick to pull her to the edge of the table, positioning himself between her legs so he would be ready to thrust inside. He'd been waiting for this moment for years. Every cherished memory he'd had with her seemed to flash through his mind.

She placed her hands on his chest to stop him.

"What is it?" It came out as more of a frustrated growl than he'd meant for it.

* * *

><p>"<em>He's all wrong for you! He's loud and obnoxious and - and - he smells funny! He's got crooked teeth! You don't want to marry someone with crooked teeth."<em>

"_Peter,__ his __teeth __are__ perfectly__ straight.__ I __know__ what __I__'__m __doing.__" _

_Sighing__ in __frustration,__ Susan __turned __to__ try __to__ walk__ from__ his__ chambers,__ but __he g__rabbed__ her __arm __and __pulled __her __back __roughly.__ She__ yanked __herself __away__ from __his __grip,__ glaring__ daggers __at __him.__ "__Never __touch __me __like __that__ again, __brother,__ or__ it__'__ll__ be __the__ last__ time__ you__ touch _anyone_.__"_

_He looked to her apologetically for a moment before the memory of why he'd grabbed her in the first place pushed its way back into his mind. He frowned deeply again, pointing at the door and presumably in the direction of the prince Susan was now thinking of marrying._

"_You're the Queen of Narnia. You can do far better than this pillock."_

"_Maybe I love this pillock."_

_He scoffed, putting his hands on her hips. "Like hell you do. I know you, Susan, and he is not your type."_

"_And what is my type, Peter?"_

_He stared at her, his mind slightly clouded with the number of glasses of wine he'd drunk that night. He swallowed, going to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. A small smile twitched at his lips. "I think you know very well who your type is."_

"_Peter..." She trailed off, staring at him, before sighing. She went to leave once more, but he was quick to grab her wrist, pulling her back more gently, but with enough of a tug to pull her against him. He didn't think, but reacted, and pressed his lips gently against hers._

_It took her a moment before she pulled back, quickly smacking him on principle, and running back to her chambers._

* * *

><p>"Tell me you love me."<p>

He looked at her with confusion. "I love you."

"You mean it?" Her breath was heavy, coming in pants, her hands still pressed against his chest to keep him from doing what they both desperately needed. "You really love me?"

"Of course, I do, Su. I've always-"

"Not just as a sister?"

He swallowed, feeling his body react at those words in a way he knew they shouldn't have. They hated to remind one another of their relation, knowing that it made every feeling they had for one another completely immoral, but he couldn't help himself. He searched her eyes, trying to figure out if she really wanted to hear this or if he could even bring himself to say it. They were about to cross a line, but did they want to completely trample over all boundaries in the process?

Finally, he nodded. "I love you...more than anything. In any world."

She sighed in satisfaction, finally lowering her hands. "I - I love you too, Peter. So much."

* * *

><p><em>Peter watched through his window as Susan's date walked her to the front door. He was completely infatuated with her and she indulged him with a kiss to the cheek, or, when she was feeling daring, a quick peck to the lips. He took what he could get, but always clearly wanted to push for more. Tonight, he seemed to be getting his wish.<em>

_Her__ arms__ were__ wrapped__ around __his__ neck, __her__ lips __pressed__ against __his __in__ a __much __more __passionate __kiss __than __she__'__d __given __this _boy _in__ their __entire __month__ of __dating. __He__ could __hear __her __moan __softly __into__ the __kiss, __his__ eyes __closing __momentarily__ as__ he __took __in __the __sound.__ He__ could __feel __a__ stirring __sensation __in __the__ pit __of__ his __stomach. __He__ hated __that __she __had __this __affect __on __him._

"_Maybe you could come inside," he heard her murmur. The look on her face played with the double meaning, leaving the boy temporarily speechless. A long enough gap in time for Peter to yank the door open, causing them both to stumble some in surprise._

"_Get inside, Susan. It's cold." He glared at her boyfriend, who promptly swallowed his nerves, gave Susan a kiss on the cheek, and ran for his car._

"_... Thank you for ruining everything once again, Peter. You're the worst brother a girl could ask for." She stormed inside, up to her room, and slammed the door behind her._

* * *

><p>Susan moaned loudly with each thrust. It felt like heaven and hell inside of her all at once. Peter's body was flushed, sounds of raw, lust filled emotion pushing out of his throat. He pressed her roughly against the table, trying to get as deeply inside of her as he could. She was wet and hot around him, tighter than he had imagined she would be, though it was clear to him that she was no virgin. He cried out now and then as he felt her body tighten around his cock, his body tensing as he tried to regain control.<p>

"Fuck - _Susan_, oh God..."

* * *

><p>"<em>Just<em>_ admit __you__'__re __jealous. __You __want __me.__ Just _say _it, __dammit!__" __Susan __slammed __her __fist__ into __Peter__'__s __chest, __causing __him__ to __stumble __before __he__ grabbed__ her __wrists __so__ she__ couldn__'__t __do __it__ again.__ "__Why __can__'__t __you __just __admit __it __for __once?__"_

_He sighed, dropping her wrists, and walking back to the bedroom. He could hear Susan starting to cry where he'd left her._

* * *

><p>"Harder, Peter. Oh God - just like that. Don't stop, please, for love of -"<p>

He felt her body stiffen around him, her head falling back and her hair falling from it's pins, brushing against the top of the table as her mouth opened in a silent scream of pleasure.

Peter let out an audible cry, only able to last a few more thrusts as he felt her body orgasming around him. He spilled inside of her, small spurts of cum pushing its way into her body. He clung to her, holding her close, panting against her as the two of them collapsed against the table.

They couldn't even notice the cold leaking in through the windows at that moment. He laid against her and listened to her heart beat loudly against her chest.

* * *

><p>"<em>Do you think God hates us?" Susan curled against him, trying to stop from shivering in the cold.<em>

_Peter grumbled sleepily not wanting to think about such a deep question so late at night. "Why would God hate us, Su?"_

"_For loving each other." She paused, sitting up some. "Is that why we can't go back to Narnia?"_

_He was quiet for a minute, looking over to her with exhaustion in his eyes. She was wide eyed, curious, and obviously worried. Being kicked out of Narnia was like being denied Heaven - it was natural to assume it was because they'd done something wrong. _

"_... Go to sleep, Su."_

* * *

><p>He tried to pretend he couldn't hear her cry.<p> 


	5. Dream

In her dreams, Peter had always been her knight in shining armor. Her hero. Her King. She never was able to tell him aloud, too afraid that it would all go to his head. It was a justified fear, really; her brother was, if nothing else, quite arrogant. Susan had never given in much to the way so many other girls enjoyed stroking his ego. She'd even told him once that if his head got much bigger, it wouldn't fit into the cap required for his uniform, let alone a crown. He'd rolled his eyes and tried to say something charming and she'd simply returned to her book.

Dreams were different. In dreams, she was allowed to look at him with adoration in her eyes. She was allowed to hang on his every word without worry that he would cockily tell her how easy it was to get her attention. She was able to spend hours with him, basking in the sun, laying in the fields of Narnia away from prying eyes. It was in these dreams that she could cuddle close to him, relax in his arms. These dreams let her forget. Forget about the pain, the worry, the shame. In these dreams, he wasn't her brother any longer. No, it was something deeper than that. Something more loving. More romantic.

In those dreams, Peter was her lover.

Back in Narnia, it hadn't seemed so hard to make those dreams a reality. There weren't many humans in Narnia and hardly anyone paid attention to their romantic involvements. The Kings and Princes of other lands were hardly of any interest in her, despite how much she enjoyed entertaining them. She knew there were rumors amongst the men of court of her easy virtue, but she hardly ever paid them any mind. Peter had fallen prey to them more than she had. She constantly had to fend off his interrogations, his accusatory glares, and remind him that only simple minded people listened to gossip.

Still, she was able to sneak a kiss here, a touch there. Things weren't quite as... complicated. Peter was the only man close to her age that she was in contact with regularly. Many had assumed it natural for them to form such a bond, even if no one knew the true nature of how deep it might have gone. Before either of them had really had the courage to act on it, though, their kingdom had been ripped away. Not once, but twice over, and their hearts were left broken and their minds lost.

In England, everything was loud. Everyone was judgmental and the fear of God was meant to keep their feelings at bay. As Susan laid in his arms now, her head against his bare chest, listening to his heart beat and feeling the rise and fall of his breath, she couldn't help but feel that fear building inside of her. They had acted on passions both had tried so hard to keep at bay. They'd lost the battle and now they were sinners, cast into a world of darkness they'd thought they'd escaped when Aslan had given them the lessons they'd so desperately needed to be taught. She couldn't feel that light any longer. She couldn't feel a loving presence. Everything was dark and cold and she questioned why Aslan had thought them ready for the real world and its many temptations.

Her fingers traced the muscles on his stomach. She could feel her forehead creasing with worry and could practically hear her mother's lecture on wrinkles in his mind. She wanted to love him, to be happy with him, but reality wasn't kind. Reality was harsh and cold. Reality would show their circumstances no mercy.

Still, when he began to awaken, and she was able to see his sleepy smile, filled with the love and adoration she'd always wanted to see on his face, she couldn't help but feel like maybe she was back in those fields of Narnia, dreaming once again.


	6. Façade

"You've got a what?"

Edmund was staring at his brother rather dumbfounded, his forehead wrinkled. It wasn't often that the two kept secrets from each other and so he had finally decided to corner him about the fact that he and Susan both had been completely unavailable to anyone in the family for days now. Weeks. It had had them all worried and Lucy, being the sensible one of the group, had thought someone should really just ask him already. She'd also been sensible enough to volunteer her other older brother for the task, deciding that if it were some awkward reasoning, a man to man talk would be much easier for Peter than trying to explain things to his little sister.

"A girlfriend," he repeated, going to pop another chip into his mouth. "You know, that thing that most men get when they're attempting to find a possible future wife." He smirked as he blocked the food thrown in his direction.

"Shut it," Edmund muttered, "I know what a girlfriend is." He shook his head, trying to wrap his mind around the new information. "Who? Since when? Why haven't we met her?"

Peter shifted uncomfortably in his seat. He couldn't very well tell him the truth. Edmund had indeed met her already, some time ago, known her for years. He wasn't sure how the boy would take it, though, so instead he settled on a lie; "She's just shy." A half-lie. Even better, given the grain of truth made it pass under the detection of his little brother's extremely heightened ability to call bullshit. Susan was rather shy about letting their family know about the two of them.

"Shy?" Edmund laughed, shaking his head. "I don't know how she could be shy about meeting us after putting up with you for however long she had been. You're the worst of the lot of us." He ignored his brother's glaring, leaning his chin in his hand. "So, other than shy, what's she like? What's her name? Why don't you just ... you know, trick her into it?"

"Oh, that'd go over well," he chuckled. "_Sorry, __honey. __I__ really__ thought__ this __was __my __flat,__ not__ Mum__'__s __house! __But __since __we__'__re __here..._" He shook his head, finishing off the last of the meal, and placing down a few pounds onto the table top to cover the costs. "Relationships are built on trust, you know. I can't just lie to her."

"Fine, fine." He waved the objections off with his hand, leaning back in his chair with a slightly disappointed sigh. "That doesn't tell me anything about Susan, though. I think Lu's almost more worried about her than she is you. Probably thinks she's gotten herself trapped in the library with no chance of ever reaching the surface for non-dusty book coated air."

Peter couldn't help but laugh. It certainly did sound like their sister. Well enough, anyway. He bit his lip, shifting in his seat again. He liked to think of himself as a good liar - to anyone other than his siblings. He could feel Edmund watching him expectantly, even worriedly. Ever since Susan and Peter had moved in together, he'd been viewed as her caretaker, the one who was supposed to keep her safe with her head on straight. Swallowing, he shrugged.

"I think she's seeing someone, too."

"Again?" He rolled his eyes, sighing, and going to take a final sip from water glass. "She's becoming boy crazy. I can't even keep up on how many suitors she's had at this rate."

"I think this one's gonna stick."

"Really?" Edmund's brow arched, his head tilting to the side in curiosity. "What makes you say that?"

"He... loves her." Peter could feel his cheeks getting hot, his stomach tying in knots. It was a true statement, but odd to say in the third person. "A lot. I'm sure of it." He nodded confidently, hoping that would be enough for his little brother. Still, Edmund watched him skeptically, not saying anything at first. It was unnerving. "What?"

"You're keeping something from me," he said finally. Sighing, he shook his head. "I guess since you guys moved out, you're entitled to your secrecy. I just... didn't think we'd ever lie to one another." Standing, Edmund went to put his bag over his shoulder, watching his older brother for a moment. "I'll talk to you later, Pete," he said simply, his voice still laced with doubt and disappointment.

Peter swallowed, watching as his brother's retreating back as he made his way back towards the underground, guilt turning his stomach in unpleasant ways. The façade of being a normal brother and sister was never going to last very long.


	7. Secrets

"What do you mean we should tell Edmund and Lucy?"

The words hung between them for a moment. Susan's voice wasn't confused; she knew exactly what he meant as those words were hardly easily misconstrued. No, it was instead filled with something that made explaining himself much harder. Peter could hear fear in her voice. The fear of judgement, of being cast out by their family; it was a fear he shared, but one that he hoped was irrational.

After meeting with his brother for lunch nearly a week ago, he'd felt plagued with guilt for lying. It hadn't _really_ been lying, he tried to rationalize. It had been only partially telling the truth. But the look in his eyes as he'd said he had walked away, the betrayal and disappointment that came with knowing Peter was keeping something from him, it had been too much to handle. They'd been the closest siblings, but since Peter and Susan had moved out on their own, things had become distant. Lucy and Edmund weren't sure how to handle Susan's lack of belief in Narnia any longer and there had been fights over whether or not she was right to have stopped believing. Accusations. Heated words that had never been meant to be shared.

Apologies always came later, he supposed, but the strain was still there. Keeping more things from one another, lying - it all felt wrong. The complete opposite of what was needed to be done to repair everything. To go back to how they had been when they had ruled as Kings and Queens.

The best he could do was reassure her.

"Ed and Lu have never judged us, not for anything," he said with confidence, despite the lack of it in all reality. "This won't be any different. We've never kept anything from them." He hoped the reminder would be enough for her. "Why start now?"

Susan was not as quick to feel bad for secrets, it seemed, and shook her head. "No! _No._. This isn't like trying to hide what their getting for their birthday or not telling them when we're going to be home for holiday next, Peter. It's not just some lightly kept thing!" She pointed towards the window, toward the outside world that they both feared so heavily. "If anyone else found out about it, we could be arrested! Don't you understand that, Peter? Don't you get that what we're doing is _wrong?_ By everyone's accounts? We're _sinners_. We're _disgusting_, and Ed and Lucy will see it that way too!" She let her hand drop, tears welling up in her eyes. "I will not have my own sister look to me like I'm some piece of immoral filth."

Peter watched as her hands began to shake, her lip disappearing between her teeth and her chest rising and falling more rapidly. She was upset. She was trying to not cry. He could see her losing the battle and was quick to step forward, wrapping his arms around her protectively and holding her close to him. He had promised to do everything to keep her safe, to make her feel safe. And here he'd gone, fucking it all up again.

"Don't make me do it, Peter," she muttered, her arms going around his shoulders, hands clinging to his shirt. Her face was buried into his chest, muffled by it, but still audible. He could hear the defeat, the terror, the disappointment in herself. It made his heart break.

He nodded softly, eyes closing. "Forget I mentioned it," he muttered, stroking her hair.

She relaxed against him, though her body still shook lightly, and he could feel a dampness forming in his shirt from her tears. f this was what she needed to feel safe and secure, he supposed keeping secrets for a little while longer was worth it all in the end.


	8. Jealousy

_Crack_!

The walnut shell split open and Peter pulled out the nuts inside with a fierce determination that probably would've been better put towards carving up the Christmas ham. He might have been channeling too much anger into one snack than was necessary, but he didn't seem to notice, or at the very least, didn't seem to care. He popped the nut into his mouth, chewing, jaw tense with each bite, and glaring at the couple off in the corner.

This _boy_ that their mother had invited over for dinner seemed to have taken quite the liking to Susan. She was laughing at his jokes in what he assumed was a polite manner, but he noticed how she didn't yank away when his hands brushed over her elbow. He noticed the way she adjusted his tie for him when she noted how crooked it was. He also noted that look in his eyes - that look of wanting, of infatuation. That look of lust.

_Crack!_

"You know, I don't think the nut did anything to you," Lucy said with some amusement as she slipped onto the couch beside him, nudging him with her elbow as she did so. It snapped him out of his anger daze, his eyes quickly snapping over to his little sister, and he attempted to relax his muscles just slightly. He didn't need to be tense around her.

Shrugging, he popped the freshly retrieved insides of the walnut into his mouth, speaking around his food as he chewed. "These are a bit tougher than usual to get open," he said with a shrug, trying to offer her a small smile. He could tell from the look on her face that she didn't believe him. Reaching over him to grab one of the walnuts, she took the spare cracker off the table, and cracked her own with ease. She smiled sweetly as she shook the nuts out of their shell and popped them into her mouth.

"So what's _really_ on your mind?"

Peter sighed, although it might have actually been more accurately described as a huff, really. He let his eyes linger back to Susan in the corner. "What'd Mum go and invite some stranger over for? He seems like a real pillock to me."

Lucy shrugged, her eyes following his, though with hardly the same harsh look to them. They were wide with curiosity and sparkled with joy when she saw her older sister laughing so merrily to yet another well delivered punchline. "She said he didn't have any family to spend the holidays with. You know Mum - she likes to be charitable sometimes. I think it makes her feel like a better Christian."

He snorted, though it was halfheartedly. The reminder of religion amongst their family left him with an uneasy feeling in his stomach these days. He wasn't being much of a religious man himself. He was sure that Aslan would have had a multitude of words for him if they met face to face again. Strayed, lost the true path... Falling in love had never been such a ridiculous temptation before.

_Crack!_

"I don't like him," he said with another huff, digging out more nuts. His jaw had gone back to tensing with each bite, his eyes never leaving Susan.

Lucy watched quietly, her forehead wrinkling as she tried to put the pieces together. Peter had only ever looked so angry a few times that she could remember and most of them had been during political discussions back in Narnia. Or when someone else had touched the sword Father Christmas had given him. Her eyes went back to where Susan was, watching her sister subtly flirt and be flirted with. She seemed so happy to have the attention, but the receiving of it seemed to be what was making Peter so angry.

She looked back to her brother, confusion written on her face. "You're jealous."

Peter nearly dropped the walnut cracker, looking to his sister with slight panic. "What?"

"Why are you jealous of Susan?"

Of Susan. Not of the man flirting with her. She hadn't connected it fully. He tried to relax, shaking his head and closing his eyes. "I'm not jealous, don't be ridiculous."

"You are! You've got that same look you get when people touch your things. You've always hated when people touch your things and you get all grouchy about it. It's not a very good characteristic of yours, you know."

_Crack! Crack!_

"Shut up, Lucy."

She frowned, not quite liking that answer. She went to take the nut cracker from him, placing it back onto the table beside the bowl. "I think you've had enough. Let's go help Mum with dinner, alright?"

He frowned, his eyes moving back to Susan again. He didn't like to think of leaving her alone in here with this touchy stranger, this boy who seemed to love the way she felt under his touch. But he couldn't ignore his little sister tugging on his arm, trying to get him to move. If he sat still too much longer, he'd just have to answer more questions. Sighing, he pulled himself up from the couch.

"Fine, fine. Lead the way."

He managed to catch Susan's eyes as he made his way to the kitchen. The look of joy on her face slipped some, an apologetic gleam making its way into her eyes. She knew. She knew how much he hated when she flirted, how threatened he felt. As they passed within touching distance, he felt her hand reach out and squeeze his own. He squeezed back without missing a beat, letting his hand fall out of hers as he made his way into the kitchen.

Jealous as he might have been, he knew where Susan's feelings lied.


	9. Confession

Susan was more than a little surprised when Edmund cornered her in the sitting room the moment their mother had gone to start a fresh pot of tea. It was as though he had been waiting for the moment when they were alone, something so delicate on his mind that he couldn't bring it up in front of anyone else. His face looked stern, though there was a hint of worry in his eyes that made her stomach do an awkward flip.

She tried to ignore how close he'd gotten to her by adding another stitch to the embroidery in her hands. Her mother had been so happy to find out she knew how that she'd insisted they do it together at least once a week.

"Yes, Ed? Can I help you?" Her voice was even, but there was a tone to it that gave away the concern of what he was about to press on.

Edmund was quiet for a moment longer. Watching her, waiting for her to maybe say something further, too afraid to press forward. He didn't know that he really wanted an answer. He just knew he had to ask. His lip went between his teeth and he looked back over his shoulder to make sure his mother was truly still occupied. The moment his head turned back around, he grabbed her hands to make her stop her stitching and forcing her to look at him.

"Are you and Peter dating?"

The color drained from her cheeks almost immediately, her eyes widening just a fraction. Her lips parted as she tried to find something to say, but only managing to take in a deep somewhat shaky breath. It was these questions she had always wanted to avoid. These moments that made her feel sick to her stomach. Her only choices were to be honest and face rejection from her family or lie. Neither felt particularly wonderful in that moment.

"What are you on about?"

He didn't let go of her hands, but rather squeezed them tighter in his own. "I talked to Peter a few months back. We went to lunch. Lucy and I were worried, you guys were keeping to yourselves so much in that apartment. I asked him what was going on and he said you'd found someone to fancy. Said you both had. Was why you were so preoccupied and couldn't come by for so much as a chat." He swallowed roughly, once again making sure his mother was no where near by, and lowering his voice in case it was somehow too loud at a whisper. "He wouldn't give me names or even tell me about her or anything about your boyfriend. I haven't seen you guys so much as even mention anyone new in your lives."

"So you jump to the conclusion that we fancy each other? You realize how ridiculous that sounds, don't you, Edmund?"

"Susan, I'm serious." He let go of her hands, going to stand up and cross his arms over his torso. "You guys were always pushing the limits in Narnia -"

"Edmund -" She began her objection weakly, eyes closing and face burying in her hands.

"Don't tell me it's not real! I remember it and I know you do too! I know you two loved each other then but it was easy to turn a blind eye on it all. I thought maybe since we were back, we were with other people, it'd be different, but those looks and touches - they're still there. I _see_ them Susan, even if no one else does. I just - I need to know." He took a deep breath, staring down at her, waiting until she lifted her face from her hands and looked up at him fully. "Are you?"

Susan wanted to deny it. She wanted to tell him he was wrong and overanalyzing. She wanted to say that she'd broken up with whomever it was Peter had said she had dated. She wanted to say that Peter's girlfriend was overseas. She wanted to think up a thousand lies, to keep things the way they were and not admit to the awful things she had now done under the guise of love.

All she could manage was a quiet nod, her eyes watering. Edmund's expression softened, relief there at having finally gotten the truth.

The moment was broken, no full reaction able to be given, as the tinkling of bone china and the sound of their mother's heals on the sitting room floor echoed. Susan stiffened, pushing the emotion off her face with a forced smile. Her mother was quick to give a grin as she placed the tray down onto the table.

"Who'd like some milk?"


End file.
